My Wife Traded Me by the Neighbor's Son
Copyright© 2026 by Queen Sarah
Chapter 7
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 7 - My wife traded me by the neighbor's son Brad. And now my life flipped upside down. My name's Tim, and if you saw me on the street, you'd probably forget me two seconds later. Average height, average build—soft around the middle from too many desk hours and takeout nights. Glasses that always slip down my nose, hair that's starting to thin at the crown even though I'm not even forty yet. I'm the guy who apologizes when someone else bumps into me. Safe. Reliable. Boring, probably.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wimp Husband Humiliation Anal Sex Facial Oral Sex Size AI Generated
Couple days later, I got home from work exhausted once again, tie already loosened, shoulders heavy from another day of Carlos riding me. The apartment was quiet when I walked in. Kristen wasn’t there, she had texted me earlier saying she was “running a quick errand downstairs.” I didn’t ask what kind of errand anymore.
I dropped my bag by the door and pulled out my own phone to check messages. That’s when I saw it. A new group chat notification. The name at the top made my stomach drop instantly: “Building Husbands”
It had been created only thirty minutes ago and the admin was Brad. I opened it with shaking fingers. There were already several messages. I recognized some of the numbers immediately: Ryan from the café, Mark from the 8th floor, Steve from 4B, and two others I didn’t know by name yet. Brad had added all of us directly.
He started the chat with a single, blunt message:
Brad: New group. Only the husbands whose wives I’ve been fucking. No bullshit. This is where we keep things organized from now on. I’m tired of texting everyone separately. Time to make this efficient.
Then he added a second message right after, casual as if he were ordering pizza:
Brad: First order of business. Starting this month, every husband pays a “maintenance fee.” $400 a month, cash or Venmo. This money goes toward keeping your wives happy, satisfied, and drama-free. New lingerie, hotel rooms when I want them, toys, whatever they need to stay in the right headspace. You pay, I deliver. Simple. Any questions?
The replies came fast, but they weren’t eager. They were tense, reluctant, laced with the kind of quiet dread that made my skin crawl.
Mark (8th floor): I’ll send it tonight. I don’t have much choice, do I? Last time I dragged my feet you sent Lisa those screenshots. She didn’t speak to me for three days. Just ... don’t show her anything else, okay?
Steve (4B): Same here. I’ll transfer it now. Look, I’m not complaining, but Rachel’s been asking why I’m always short on cash lately. If I miss a payment again are you really going to forward her those videos? I can’t go through that shit again.
Ryan: Understood. I’ll drop it off tomorrow morning. Marina made it very clear what would happen if I caused any problems. She said she’d pack a bag and stay downstairs with you until I “learned my place.” I’m not fighting it anymore. Just tell me where to leave the envelope.
Paul (7th floor – new name): First time paying. I’ll do it. Emily already warned me that if I make waves she’ll show you the messages I sent her begging her to stop seeing you. I’m not stupid. I know how this works now.
I felt sick. These weren’t excited men. They were defeated ones. Grown adults with jobs, mortgages, wedding rings — all of them sounding scared, resentful, but completely trapped. They weren’t thanking Brad out of joy. They were complying because they knew the alternative was worse. My thumb trembled as I kept scrolling, my stomach twisting tighter with every line.
Brad: Great, fellas. While we’re here, quick pussy update so everyone knows where we stand. I like transparency:
Brad: Mark’s wife (Lisa): Still the wettest of the group. Grips like a vice when she cums. Needs more anal training though. I want her taking me easier back there by next month. Tell her to wear the plug I gave her for at least two hours every day. She whines too much when I go slow. If she keeps complaining I’ll send you the video of her begging last week. You can deal with it.
Brad: Steve’s wife (Rachel): Amazing deepthroat, best in the building right now, but her pussy is getting a little loose from how hard I’ve been using her. Start doing her Kegels again like I told you. Daily. I want that cunt tight for me. She still tastes sweet though. Don’t make me remind you twice.
Brad: Ryan’s wife (Marina): Perfect pink little thing. Still super tight. Loves when I call her my favorite slut. Keep her shaved exactly the way I like — nothing left. And tell her to stop wearing panties when she comes down to see me. I don’t like barriers. You already know what happens if she shows up with panties again.
Brad: Paul’s wife (Emily): Decent pussy, but she still hesitates when I tell her to spread wider. Work on that confidence at home. I don’t like shy pussy. Make her practice spreading for you every night so she’s ready for me. She gets soaked fast once she stops being nervous. If she keeps acting shy I’ll just send the group the clip of her crying last time I made her beg.
Then Brad added the line that made my blood run cold:
Brad: And welcome our newest member Tim. Kristen’s husband. He’s been watching and listening for a while now, but it’s time he joins the group officially. Say hi, Timmy.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I felt dizzy. The other husbands’ replies started flooding in almost immediately, but I couldn’t focus on them. My thumbs moved on their own, opening a private chat with Brad before I could stop myself.
Tim: What the hell is this? What is going on?
The three dots appeared almost instantly. Brad was typing.
Brad: Relax, Timmy. It’s simple. Handling all you cuckies separately was getting too much work. Texting one after another, reminding each of you to pay, telling each of you how to keep your wife ready for me ... it was annoying. This way is easier. One group. One set of rules. And honestly? It’s a lot funnier watching all of you react in the same place.
I stared at the message, my mouth dry. My fingers hovered over the keyboard again.
Tim: Why do I have to pay you money? $400 a month? That’s insane. You’re already ... you’re already sleeping with my wife. Why the hell should I pay you for it?
Brad’s reply came back fast, calm and matter-of-fact, like he was explaining something obvious to a child.
Brad: Because I’m tired of fucking all your wives for free, Timmy. Think about it. I’m doing you a favor. I keep them happy, satisfied, glowing. I fuck them better than you ever could. I make them moan my name instead of nagging you about bills or whatever boring shit you argue about. That peace of mind isn’t free.